


Rest For The Weary

by EvoFTG



Series: The Lord and The Consort [4]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aurumshipping, Established Relationship, Gender-Neutral Arceus, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Other, Pokephilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 23:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvoFTG/pseuds/EvoFTG
Summary: Old scars can sometimes hurt, but that does not mean that it has to be borne alone.





	Rest For The Weary

It looks like a shrine, one that is built into the mountain cliff-side. Torches on both sides of the entrance gives an impression of a ceremonial place, although for what purpose it serves eludes him for now. The flame waves lazily in the cool breeze that makes the exposed skin on his arms tingle. 

Ash Ketchum stares at the mountainside that looms before him and wonders why he can’t shake the feeling of _déjà vu_ about this place. At first, the gloom makes him think that it’s night here – wherever this is – but the eye in the sky is of the sun, only shadowed over by a moon in passing. 

A solar eclipse, climbing to its zenith. 

The sun is a silver ring of fire behind the black lunar face, but only at first. Though his mind tells him to avert his eyes, again and again he is drawn to them. The longer he looks at it, the more aware he becomes of the prowling shadows at the edges crawling slowly inward, a deeper darkness that grows jagged edges that resemble teeth in a lupine maw. The day grows colder and darker, the silence deeper. It has the palpable stillness of a predator in waiting rather than the quiet peace of sleep. 

_‘Please have pity, return it, return it,’_  
_‘The crown of the King…’_

The song fills his mind with a thousand little voices singing in a hundred languages, but somehow he understands them all. 

Somehow, he also understands that the voices are warning him of the dangers that lurk behind the shadows. They do not tell him with words so much as with the fear and urgency of their tones, whispering as though to keep themselves unheard by prying ears. The smell of burning wood fills his nostrils; his tongue tastes the bitter tang of copper and rust, as though the mere sight of the moon is affecting his other senses. 

He needs to leave, and leave soon. 

“Pikachu, we have to –” 

But the electric pokémon is nowhere in sight. Ash stares around him, unable to comprehend the fact. He’s so used to Pikachu being around, Ash can’t remember the last time they are not within a yard of each other. Suddenly, the night closes in on with renewed foreboding, sending chills down his back and sweats to bead on his forehead. 

So he runs. 

There is only one way to go. In front of him is a sheer drop from the stone-carved platform down to the rock-littered base of the mountain seventy feet below. Behind him is a dark entrance with the torches standing at both sides. He cannot remember if there has always been a woman standing there, her features illuminated just enough for him to recognize her as the keeper of the Michina shrine, Sheena. 

“Hurry!” 

Ash’s mind reels back with the force of realization at the sight of her. He knows this place, though in circumstances he rather not sees repeated. This is the very place where Arceus the Alpha Pokémon is led to its near demise hundreds of years before he was even born, and where he encountered it in his own time under the threat of world-ruining Judgment. 

Sheena is shouting amidst the wind picking up around them, “Hurry! We’re running out of time!” 

He glances up against his better judgement. The shadows from the eclipse is spreading outwards into the sky, turning the eclipsed sun a deathly black circle with no light to speak of. Ash struggles against the growing heaviness in his feet, as though he is running through something viscous until his lungs begin to sting painfully from his exertion. 

Ash runs, holding on to the sight of a beckoning Sheena as a guide as blackness begins to creep into his vision. 

Sheena’s outstretched hand waits for his reach. The inches between her fingertips and his feel insurmountable. 

Just when he thinks he will never make it in time, he feels the warm yet solid grasp of Sheena’s fingers around his wrist. Ash grabs hold of Sheena’s wrist in return and, with a desperate cry, hauls himself forward until he finds himself stumbling through the door and into the ground, barely missing Sheena in the process. As he struggles to right himself, he realizes that the heaviness around him clears away and his consciousness returns like a rush of cold water on his head. 

Outside, the shadows writhe wildly, dark tendrils snapping against an invisible barrier that seemingly walls off the interior of the shrine against the rest of the world. Sparks shoot off futilely where the shadows try to breach through. 

“Sheena, what…?” 

“Without the Guardian, the darkness will be upon us,” she says, her voice quavering with more than just exertion as she helps him back to his feet. “You have to help us again.” 

The only source of lighting in the shrine is the rows of lit torches that line the walls. Ash struggles to see clearly in the dim lighting, which casts moving shadows of himself and Sheena on the wall. The shrine looks… oddly preserved, if he can say that much. When he arrived in Michina with Brock and Dawn, all those years ago, the complex has been in ruins for hundreds of years, remnants of Arceus’ past retaliation when Damos ‘failed’ to keep his promise. Even when his involvement to change the history has altered the timeline slightly, the shrine ends up similar in his present. The ravages of time have been unkind but at least Damos’ name is cleared and Arceus survives the ordeal, albeit still with injuries that require the same extensive healing. 

Turning to the only person available for the asking, he says, “Sheena, what’s happening here?” 

Sheena seizes his hand and forcefully leads him into the heart of the shrine. Ash is surprised to discover that he is pulled along by a strength impossible to the slenderness of her build. 

“Sheena!” He tries to yank his hand out of her hold but her fingers grasp like a Talonflame’s claws. It hurts to the point he is surprised to find that she does not yet draw blood from her nails digging into his skin. 

She turns around when his resistance grows, although Ash fails to make any progress in freeing himself from her iron grip. With a severe frown and her eyes glistening, she shouts, “You must help us! Return the Jewel of Life to its rightful owner!” 

“The Jewel of Life? But Damos has –” 

No sooner than he says it, Ash becomes aware of a mass weighing down one of his jeans’ pockets. It is not there before, he could’ve sworn it, which takes him by terrible surprise when he fishes out a radiantly emerald-green orb slightly larger than his combined fists, its inside streaked with veins of gold like a flame frozen in its track. Colours of various descriptions glitter across its surface and within it is tiny specks when it is turned this way and that. It feels smooth and warm in his hand; if he closes his eyes, he imagines he can feel a quiet energy steadily pulsing from its core like a heartbeat. 

It is, without a doubt, Arceus’ Jewel of Life. 

Ash stares at it, unable to understand why and when this precious object comes into his possession. 

“But – why…? It didn’t… I haven’t –” 

“It’s not yours to keep,” Sheena says, unsympathetic to Ash’s obvious distress as she forcefully grabs his shoulders and forces him to meet her stare. “Do not repeat Marcus’ folly.” 

At least, that is the one thing he has no doubt about. “Of course. This belongs to Arceus.” 

“Then we shouldn’t waste more time here.” 

If he has been troubled before, Sheena’s grave tone sets Ash’s instinct on high alarm. He has seen for himself the vulnerability forced upon Arceus when a portion of its life-force is lent to Damos in the form of the Jewel of Life in the hope to restore the land of Michina to its former glory. To see the very same thing now in his hand, and with Sheena’s vague yet urgent insistences, there is nothing remotely understandable, much less encouraging, that he can cling on to. He is not given much time to dwell on his uneasiness as Sheena pulls him along yet again, past the arena with the tiered steps – where the Hypnotized Damos has led the Legendary Pokémon into Marcus’ trap – and all the way to the other side, where a long stairways descend down a chasm… 

Wide-eyed, Ash follows Sheena’s beckoning finger to the bottom of the abyss. The sight that meets his eyes causes his heart to clench painfully and turns his breaths into a gasp of horror. 

Down in the depth between the precipices, laying amongst the rubbles and boulders splintered off the rocky walls, is none other than Arceus, as unmoving as the debris which has entombed it. Before his very eyes, the natural glow that envelops Arceus’ body recedes under its hide until the cavern is bereft of what little light there previously was from the Legendary Pokémon. 

_“No, no, no, no –”_ His eyes turn to look at the Jewel of Life in his palm, and then to Sheena behind him – only to find that where the woman has been standing in waiting before is devoid of any person. 

“Don’t turn your back on Arceus,” Sheena’s voice snarls, stern and condemning. Ash wheels around reflexively to the source of it – the woman stands now beside the beginning of the descending staircase, much to his surprise. He cannot remember seeing her moving from her spot and no obvious obstruction presents itself in the vicinity to account for his failure to notice her. 

Something’s not right. 

He knows this – he senses it in the bone-deep wariness nurtured out of the many dangers he has miraculously survived – but a more pressing matter makes him dismiss the thought. He can’t remember much of the frantic race down the wood-planking walkways, one hand clutching the precious Jewel close to its chest while he keeps contact with the sheer cliff-wall with his fingertips to guide him down through the darkness. 

The signs of struggles are obvious along the way, from the collapsed mountainsides to broken shrine structures, but at the very bottom of the cliff, Ash meets his nightmare. Arceus’ broken body lies crumpled in a pool of silvery fluids, unfamiliar to Ash but whose pungent metallic smells brings to mind of freshly spilled blood. Boulders large enough to crush him weighs down on its back, caving its body grotesquely and bulging with its fractured spine; smaller, broken-off pieces litter its proximity as though they have been cast down upon the Legendary Pokémon in an effort to keep it down… or to bury it alive. 

“Arceus –” But he feels the unstoppable nausea rising in his throat before he can say anything else, and turns himself away in an effort to quell the urge to retch into his cupped hands. 

However, the sight has already burnt itself into his mind. Even with his eyes shut tight, he can see it clearly, like a picture screened onto the back of his eyelids: The golden wheel, normally wrapped around its flank, is now tarnished and cracked. But its most obvious damages are the four spokes, cracked off the main frame… and driven through Arceus’ body like spears through a prey, their sharp ends embedded into the ground as though to secure the Legend firmly there. There’s blood all around, beautiful, silvery blood, smelling of tin and the sea, the reek of dead fish washed ashore and the tang of burnt circuitries… 

Ash’s eyes fly open, willing the sight to disappear when he turns back to where Arceus is – but it’s still there, it’s really there, it’s real, its body a sorry-looking heap of flesh, golden spears sticking out like needles on a pincushion through its throat, its chest, its back, liquid silver bubbling out from the gaping wounds, pumped on and on and on by a resilient heart that just refuses to die, not yet, there’s more, there’s still blood, still warm and steaming from the life it has just left – 

Ash looks down at the hand that holds the Jewel of Life, green and glittering. 

It’s a small hope, but it is what it is. He _has_ to try. 

He opens stride – tries to, at least, but suddenly he finds that his knees wobble too much. He stumbles, face smacking into the dusty, bloody ground, the impact almost jarring loose the pearl in his hand. He lets out a muffled curse and tightens his grip on that thing until he hears the cracks in his metacarpals. 

_Hold on,_ Arceus, his mind screams in lieu of the mouth that can only cough sickly at the moment. _Look, I got what you need, I’m coming, don’t you dare –_

“It’s too late, isn’t it?” Says a voice, as though replying to the pleas that never leave his lips. 

Ash glances back, the painful crick in his neck completely ignored when he recognizes Sheena standing at the base of the long, long stairway. 

_How come… –?_

There’s a terrible silence in the first few moments of confusion. Sheena can’t be there, there’s no way for it to reach him that fast even if she has followed right behind him. Despite his urgency, Ash has been sure that there’s been no one with him through his descent. 

He should’ve asked about that but an explicable anger rises in his throat and chooses the words for him: “There’s still time!” 

There _has_ to be. Please, take the minutes off him if it has to – just long enough for him to return what belongs to Arceus. 

He forces himself to ignore the relentless stare on his face and, when he twists himself back to Arceus, on the back of his head. His legs are too unsteady; he crawls instead, inching his way on his hands and knees, lurching through the warm, sickly depths of the mercurial blood – careful to keep the pearl off its taints all the while. He reaches Arceus finally when he has managed to smear just about every part of his body. The Jewel of Life remains pristine in his hand. 

“Arceus, can you feel it? It’s right here, you just need to –” 

How did it go last time? He just… held it out when the pearl flew off towards the silver water-buried Arceus, dissipating into light and shapes of the Plates it had been composed. Then they were absorbed, clean and simple like that… except there’s been no fractured spine or golden spokes sticking out of its body before this. 

“Arceus, please, please, just take it –” 

He shoves the Jewel of Life to its chest as though expecting it to behave like it does the least time. What he manages is sullying the smooth, warm curvature with the silver that he has been fighting to keep off. 

Should he pry open the mouth and tosses it down its gullet? 

Blood. There’s just _too much blood._

Sheena is walking towards him, hands tucked behind her. He doesn’t even realize her coming if she doesn’t speak, pulling him out of his gruesome trance in the sight before him. 

“Time is not on our side tonight.” 

Something draws her attention upwards. Ash looks up as well, just in time to see the cracks forming high above them, streaking across the stony roof of the cavern. The ominous creaks of rocks straining under too much weight heralds the doom long before the ceiling fails with a spectacular crash, releasing a sea of silverwater pouring down into the shrine from an unseen source outside, silvery and glistening like Arceus’ very own blood. 

Ash opens his mouth but the flood is upon him instantly, forcing his shout of Arceus’ name back into his throat; able to only watch helplessly as the almighty current tears him further and further away from Alpha’s deathly still body – 

  


* * * * *

  


Ideally, this should be the point where Arceus finishes its routine patrol and returns to Earth. 

Arceus has had only general notions of difference between the passing of time between its realm and the Earthly plane, seeing it only as a side-knowledge rather than being of concern to it. That is, until very recently, when time and its consequences have much larger influences on it, now that Arceus has a person there to be mindful of. 

Hastening the flow of time around it means that outside its range, time moves slower – Earthly time may move only a few days compared to the months Arceus is undergoing, but it is difficult to tell for certain. Arceus merely contents itself to the thought that its absence is not as long as that experienced by its mate on Earth. More importantly, after diligent meditations and maintenance on its dimension, it is now safe again to leave behind. 

Arceus is preparing itself for the departure when a strange, detached sense of discomfort flashes through its mind. 

At the tail of it, Arceus recognizes instantly the source of it. There is no mistaking its own consort, human though he may be. Bonded mates as they are, there will always be a part of Ash Ketchum that remains alive in itself; a soft yet steady presence that tucks itself warmly in the corner of Arceus’ consciousness. Just now, however, is an aberrant – it is an outburst rather than a background murmur, and touched with an alarming sense of fear… as well as that of danger. 

_-Ash?_

As it stands there in the middle of the Hall of Origin, its mind seeks to connect with its mate’s before remembering that Ash is not nearly as attuned as its Legendary cohorts to receive a mental contact – not, especially, at this vast range. Arceus’ gift of a ring to him does allow further connection between them, but Ash has not yet learnt or become powerful enough to use it as a mean to hear Arceus in the same way Arceus listens to him. Not that it stops Arceus from trying, futility paling in the face of its anxiety to hear from its consort. 

_-Ash Ketchum –_

No voice answers back but the pain that comes to it is a distant, ghostly echo of what Ash must be experiencing. Arceus worries, and in worrying, it sees only one way to handle the ambiguity. A portal burst into existence in front of it, instantaneous as its thoughts, washing the already dazzling Hall of Origin in colourful, ever-shifting lights from the auras surrounding the rim. Arceus hurls itself into its depth without thinking, anxious to reach its mate as soon as it can. The portal shrinks to a close behind it until Arceus is left in the obfuscating darkness of the Crossing, fighting to keep its mind open to Ash’s feedback. 

_But why…?_

Something does not seem to make sense here. The edges of his Aura wavers and snaps wildly, giving credit to the fear and disquiet Arceus is sensing from Ash’s end, but he does not glow as sickly as Arceus has feared. It is a confusing combination for it is as though Ash is experiencing something vivid but which is not quite ‘real’… 

_A nightmare, then?_

Far from being relieved, Arceus’ first thought turns for the worst. There has been a time when his slumber would seem to be the death of him… but that was a dark time they eventually evaded, Arceus forcefully reminds itself. Ash’s sleep now should be nothing more than the peaceful rest as is normal for humans. As frightening as his dreams may be, his Aura – his life-essence – shows no diminishment that should indicate harm upon the owner. 

_...If it is nothing more than just the plaything of sleep, would my presence be reasonable?_

For just a second, Arceus slows down its pace, coasting on an invisible current through the dimensional Crossing as it contemplates its unannounced coming; then immediately regrets even that briefest pause. Rather than making its own judgements, Arceus should have focussed itself on making itself available first and foremost. Nightmare or no, Ash is already deeply affected that his emotions manage to reach Arceus from so far away. Arceus hastens into a gallop, each stride taking it across multitudes of the Closed Worlds spanning the distance between its home dimension and the Earthly Realm. Several colonies of Unown inhabiting some of those worlds are startled by the urgent passing of the Original One and scatter from the searing trail it leaves behind. Nevertheless, it would appear that Arceus will not be able to arrive on time – Ash’s mind is rousing, not slowly but rather much like he is being jolted awake. 

The connection between them fades. Awake, his mind is more firmly bound to the Earthly plane than in his sleep. Establishing a mental link between them now will prove a challenge with the Ketchum so freshly unsettled, so Arceus consoles itself that it will be much better soon when it will physically there with him. 

In no time at all – but still too long as it seems to the restless Legend – Arceus arrives on Earth out of the portal it coaxes open, far above the sprawling countryside of Kanto region. Not the most discreet appearance, admittedly, but there are clouds to cover the more conspicuous aspects of its presence this high up. Arceus spreads out its senses into finding the Ketchum’s whereabouts, expecting to find him in his city apartments where he normally lives when Arceus is not around; instead, he has apparently left it for somewhere a little less crowded and slightly unfamiliar to the Legend. 

There is doubt at this sudden change to Ash’s routine. Arceus is no stranger to supernatural malice that the suggestion of Ash being possessed into deviation is not too far-fetched, but his Aura remains assuredly benign when prodded. If so, anything he is doing is under his own judgment, however unfamiliar it may be… 

Arceus makes itself forego the temptation of theorizing endlessly. Ash is nearby already to answer whatever questions it may have and there are a lot that Arceus hopes to be clarified upon. 

Mindful of stray eyes catching glimpses of Arceus, the Legend cloaks itself in a glamour of its own devising – a trick rather like Zororark’s illusion except Arceus’ persuades ignorance into any accidental watcher, making them _think_ that they have seen nothing of interest. It is a skill Arceus rarely resorts to but which is gaining significance nowadays for obvious, Ash-related reasons. It makes the last few miles’ journey a lot less of a hassle than if Arceus is constantly wary of spying eyes. 

Arceus succeeds to that end, the only eyes being aware of its arrival belonging to the Ketchum’s Pikachu, who tugs at the young man’s shirt urgently while Arceus begins its descent towards them. 

Unlike Arceus, it is impossible for Ash’s eyes to light up in the literal sense… but he manages it in his own way. Arceus is no longer concerned of having unwanted guests here, not this far away from the suburbs of Viridian City. Actually, Ash is far enough from civilization that the Alpha is quietly apprehensive of his safety, though that is a concern it hides for the moment. It cannot possibly bring itself to rebuttal when Ash is coming towards it, his face scrunched in a peculiar expression and his strides anxious. 

When his arms wind around Arceus’ fore-leg in as close to a hug as he can manage, the Alpha’s breath hitches from the intensity of his touch. In that moment, Arceus hates that their physical aspects are grossly different from each other that even touching its mate is a chore. Adopting a humanoid disguise is always an option for Arceus but Ash, for whatever reasons, consistently prefers Arceus in its animalistic form. 

_-Ash…_ But words fail the Legend when it does not know what it is it wants to talk. Questions buzzing in its mind not a few seconds ago pale compared to the surge of affection that chokes its voice so. 

“Arceus, you’re here.” He says these into the hard, sinewy structures that predominate its legs but Ash pushes himself against it as if nothing can be more comfortable than this. “You’re here. You’re okay. You’re... you’re alright.” 

_-Yes, Ash. I am fine, as always._ Arceus pauses for there and then, it notices the overwhelming sense of concern from the Ketchum, a heart-sickening fear that makes his Aura writhes like an agitated snake. _-…but you – I do not think I can say the same for you._

Of all things, Arceus does not expect to be reacted with a grimace and an abrupt withdrawal of his person from Arceus. The loss is surprisingly intense for something so simple. A keening sound is let loose against its will. 

“I… I was just –” 

Pikachu interrupts in that moment, a complete contrast to Ash’s stutter. In three _pika’s,_ the reason is already told and Ash fidgets uncomfortably in front of Arceus, looking like he wants to hide himself from its inquiring stare. 

_-A nightmare?_

So Arceus has not been wrong in its assumption after all. 

Ash looks like he could not hate himself any more that he does now. Alarm flares in Arceus at the unexpected severity of his frown, the tight clench of his teeth, the eyes which refuse to look at it directly. 

“It’s stupid, I know. I should’ve… I should just…” He takes a deep breath; releases it in a huff that clearly does nothing to calm himself down. “You shouldn’t have come.” 

The Arceus who once lived its life independently, unbound to anyone, would have found the dismissal insulting. This current Arceus is still unsettled… but not with indignity. Ash is clearly on the wrong foot here, unable to find a stable place to land or a grasp to correct himself. Seeing Arceus here is a proof of... of weakness, apparently. A weakness that he cannot control his fear from doing these things to him… 

_-And what? That I should stay at my Hall and listen to the cries in your dream from afar? That I should be an ineffectual observer?_

…Perhaps, Arceus is not as composed as it thinks itself to be. That sounds _scathing_ – totally not the intended effect here. 

Ash recoils. “It’s not a big deal! You shouldn’t have bothered!” 

There is acid in his words. He spits them out as though he hates saying them. 

“It’s not something you should be worried about when you… you have things to do. Out there. You’re wasting your time here!” 

Arceus sweeps down, impulsively, grace and power flowing through its limbs… for the simple effect of kneeling in front of the human. For the briefest of moments, Ash’s eyes widen in alarm before he is pulled into the space between its front legs by the tactile aura-tendrils which serve as Arceus’ hands. Ash cannot be trusted to have a reasonable discussion in this state, and so the Alpha’s instinct cries out an obvious solution. 

_Tend to him,_ it says, angry that Arceus takes this long to heed it. _Comfort him. You have come for exactly this._

“Arceus –” 

The Legend’s body begins to emanate light, golden and warm like a miniature sun. Fear that he may have pushed Arceus over the limit is quickly replaced by the sudden realization that Arceus means only to hold him, followed by a quiet relief at the touch of Arceus’ forehead on his back, guiding him closer still. Being a nurturer comes naturally to the Original One, who has spent considerable amount of time doing just that to dying lands on Earth; to focus it all on Ash, its mate, listening to the involuntary gasps of appreciation, there is an unspeakable satisfaction in there. 

_-Ash, dearest... my precious one…_

Arceus purrs, a resonant and sustained sound that is almost like a music and infused with a low-level Aura to soothe the edge of his anxiety. Ash, feeling the vibrations transferring between their bodies, closes his eyes and leans into the crook where its shoulders meet the torso. Arceus is still too big to manage cuddling properly but right now interruption will be the least wise thing to do even for a transformation to a more appropriate size. They settle for what they can manage: Arceus with the careful touches on his back with the tip of its metal-clad forehead, Ash with his fingers threading through the fur and his face pressed into its chest. 

_-…If our positions are reversed, would you ignore my voice even with the knowledge that it is only because of a bad dream?_

Ash huffs into the fur but his hands do not stop the very pleasant massages. “No, I mean… Okay, you’re right. I wouldn’t be able to sit still.” 

The purring turns to a soothing hum. Ash sounds small but he sounds more like himself now. 

_-You are neither weak nor helpless. But… perhaps, you do not have to struggle alone as I once did._

That catches Ash’s attention in the unintended way. The eyes lifted up to meet Arceus blink rapidly and are bright with concern. 

“What do you mean? What happened?” 

The first response that comes to its mind is dismissal, being that particular unpleasantness has long passed. On the other hand, Ash looks far too curious to deny the disclosure; far too concerned to waive without Arceus appearing condescending. After all, there is no shame in honesty, least of all to its significant other. 

_-It is no longer a concern,_ Ash immediately opens his mouth, protest at the ready to be shouted, but Arceus presses on, _-but I will tell you, if you give me a moment._

In the momentary pause where Ash processes that he is not going to be left questioning, Arceus finally sees it appropriate to assume the scaled-down version of itself. It is a process that takes only a few seconds; as soon as Arceus has concluded the transformation, Ash approaches the Legend’s side and throws his arms around the neck in what must be an embrace he longed to do ever since… 

…since _forever,_ it feels like. He holds on to Arceus like it is his lifeline, like Arceus is something that will escape if he fails to keep his grasp on. It is not just the intensity of his touch either – for all that he is human and untrained to use his Aura consciously, the Alpha can still sense its flow over to Arceus in a desperate bid for connection. His hands roams in a subconscious yet purposeful manner, Arceus realizes. His palms press fastidiously all over its chest and throat, his breaths catching with worry at even the faintest imperfection only to find that it is only minute tangling of fur… 

Arceus starts talking because if it does not, it _will_ drown in the heady bliss of such thorough attention. 

_-I do not sleep often; you know this already. However, there has been a life of mine when sleep is not a luxury but a necessity for my survival._

The pause in his stroking tells that Ash understands what Arceus is alluding to, and that he finds this more disturbing than Arceus is comfortable to admit. 

“After Marcus tried to… kill you – You had to sleep off the worst of your injuries and heal yourself.” 

_-Yes,_ Arceus says, mind busily pondering how best to talk about it without placing more burden on the Ketchum. This is, after all, only a recollection for the sake of sharing. 

Ash’s face, meanwhile, has taken a paler complexion and a deeper frown. “You never told me that you have nightmares about it.” 

_-I don’t. But throughout my slumber… I have nothing_ but _nightmares as my constant company._

Arceus is forced to close its eyes then. Memories of another life come flooding from the deep recesses of its mind; memories of a life spent believing that Damos had betrayed its kindness and seized the Jewel of Life for himself. The boulders he had rained on Arceus’ weakened body were still not enough to end its life, instead fanning within it a fierce confusion for the crime which Arceus would never have attributed to its friend. It was a confusion it carried well into its enforced slumber, wherein the ugly memories turned into seemingly never-ending nightmares that it had to live through again and again… 

The hate, borne from the misunderstanding, burned through Arceus like an unholy fire. As its powers returned – as much as they could with five of its Plates missing – so too its wrath boiled over. It resonates through its Aura, unbridled and raw, decimating Arceus’ very own Hall of Origin in its indiscriminating hunger. The dimension in which it resided suffered under the wrath of its master, straining outward to compensate the pressures within until Dialga’s and Palkia’s home-dimensions were caught in its turbulence. 

By the time of Arceus’ awakening, its fury has completely taken over. It was _not_ a kind experience; even live dismemberment would have been a mercy to the agony of being ripped apart from its chaotic sleep and thrust into the reality of overwhelming lust for blood and souls for those who had wronged it. 

Feeling Ash’s hands rubbing soothing circles on its hide reminds Arceus that it is not only history; it is a _buried_ history as new events unfolded and laid over the old one, thanks to Dialga’s temporal interventions. 

Another realization: Arceus has been talking throughout its private musing. Not all details escape – there are hundreds of years’ worth of nightmares to recount them all – but it is unfortunately more than Arceus means to tell. 

_-Suffice to say, it is not something I wish upon anyone, least of all to my beloved,_ Arceus finishes, hoping that the lightness will sufficiently ease the tension in Ash. It has to be rather disturbing listening to the tale if even Pikachu comes over and perches on Arceus’ shoulder, making himself a silent yet attentive company. 

Ash, for his part, is as quiet as Pikachu. It is a thoughtful silence that lasts for quite a while until he eventually shifts himself – no longer hugging the Alpha but rather more or less reclining with his back against its chest, his head rested on the base of its neck-spike. 

“I…– the dreams I had tonight. They’re something along that line too.” Another deep breath to prepare himself for the dive. “I was back at Michina Shrine. And an eclipse was happening, just like the day Damos was supposed to hand back the Jewel of Life.” 

Arceus wants to interrupt him and ensures that he has no obligation to explain himself. Yet, the longer Ash talks, Arceus begins to recognize that this is something Ash needs to do for the sake of unburdening. 

“It wasn’t the same day. I could tell, somehow. And I could feel… _something…_ around me, waiting for things to happen. That’s when I saw Sheena.” 

His Aura becomes rigid as does his expressions when he tells of the Jewel of Life inexplicably in his keeping. Sheena was awfully mysterious except for her warning to make haste and her instructions to return the Jewel of Life to Arceus. His voice fails abruptly here, mouth opening in the middle of saying something before closing it again soundlessly. It sets his teeth on edge and his eyes stinging with hot tears, which he hastily wipes away with his free hand. 

_-Ash, if you would rather take your time…–_

“I saw you down in the pit where Marcus tried to trap you,” he says quickly, the words rushing out of him after hurling himself over the mental obstacle, “You were hurt really bad. I tried to get to you as fast as I could. I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t do anything to help. I tried to give the Jewel back but you wouldn’t… you were _dying,_ right there in front of me…!” 

One of his hands has been idly touching Arceus’ leg all these while; that same hand is now tightening his grasp on its knee-cap, a subconscious gesture that seeks for reassurance in Arceus’ solidity. Arceus senses his bubbling fear resurfacing full-force in all at once. His touch tenses, nails biting into the sparse flesh of its leg to the point it would have hurt had Arceus been a normal human being. Ash is biting on his lips hard, refusing to say anything more and drawing his knees close to his chest. It takes a moment for Arceus to realize that the hand he is watching closely is the same one upon which he wears the ring given to him by the Legend. 

Fortunately, Pikachu is willing to fill in the gap: He is telling how Ash was moaning in his sleep for far too long that Pikachu grew restless and took upon himself to rouse the Ketchum. It has taken some efforts but, after evading several hand-swats and reflexive elbows, Pikachu did manage to wake up his by-then dishevelled trainer. 

“…I _had_ to know. If you’re alright or – or you’re actually in trouble,” Ash says, taking both pokémon by surprise at his suddenness. It does not seem like he is capable of any more talking and Arceus has been prepared for silence for the rest of the night. “This ring. I knew you could hear me with it. And I… I knew that I shouldn’t. It’s just a really bad dream. But I kept thinking and… somehow, I must’ve called you anyway.” 

It would answer everything Arceus has found puzzling in his circumstances if Ash does not intend to contact Arceus in the first place. Pikachu has warned Arceus long ago that Ash is prone to wandering around if his mind is occupied stressfully. He is not joking about it, apparently. 

Of all things, though, the one understanding that shocks Arceus the most is perhaps also the most intuitive one. And yet, here Arceus is, finding itself staggered by the foreign implication, enough so that it momentarily forgets to breathe. 

_-Ash, you were afraid FOR me. For MY sake._

“You bet I was! It’s useless, I know. It’s not like – You’re a Legendary Pokémon! You don’t need anyone worrying about you but I –… Arceus?” 

It is Arceus’ wellbeing that is the most distressing aspect of his nightmare. 

That peculiar tightness in its ribs is intense enough to hurt except Arceus actually relishes the sensation. It feels like it is entirely possible for Arceus’ chest to burst open with love for the Ketchum; nuzzling and licking him do very little to ease the pressure, in fact steadily intensifying as Ash responds agreeably to its ministrations with his little sighs and answering touches to the nearest shoulder blade. 

Why? 

Why is it so surprising to discover that Ash is worried about it? It is not something that comes out of the blue, this expression of concern for Arceus. There has never been an instance where Ash fails to ask of Arceus’ welfare whenever it returns to its mate: 

_Are you alright, Arceus?_

Or: 

_How was your day?_

Or: 

_Everything’s okay out there, right?_

His simplistic choice of words does not hide the depth of his worry, reflected truthfully by the gentle yet anxious flow of Aura reaching out to the Legend every time they meet. These details are normally overwhelmed when Arceus is occupied in the joy of reunion, but ‘now’ is not an encounter like their previous ones… 

_He has worried himself sick with his thoughts,_ Arceus muses, and the fondness for the young man swells anew. 

It realizes with embarrassing sluggishness, that it is not so much surprised by Ash’s response as by the recognition that Arceus is rarely the recipient of attention of that nature. By the virtue of Arceus’ Legendary status, there is not much situations where it is truly in peril. And yet… 

How long? 

How long has it been since there was anyone who knows enough to be _worried for_ Arceus? 

Outside its own Legends – the Creation Dragons and the Lake Guardians – few souls in existence knows Arceus on a level that would have made them care. 

Magical Creatures and humans alike regard Arceus as an untouchable, mythical figure. In their minds, there exists not the slightest possibility that Arceus _can_ be vulnerable – or if it does, they do not view the Alpha as a thinking, feeling individual: Less of a person, more of an animated statue or an unsympathetic alien, undeserving of sympathy. 

Its late friend Damos was the rare exception, having aided Arceus’ recovery of the Type Plates out of his benevolence, thus forming the basis of their relationship. It has been a friendship of mutual respect and, for his compassion, Damos was among the few people Arceus allowed into its circle. He was a kindred spirit wanting only to secure the safety of their charges – Damos’ being his people, Arceus’ being the rest of the world. 

There was love for that man, certainly… but it is not the same love which it bears for the Ketchum, now enclosed protectively between its outstretched fore-limbs. 

_-What you feel is a mutual sentiment for both sides,_ Arceus rumbles into his ears as it outlines the lobe with the tip of its forehead. Ash cringes at the ticklishness of its delicate touch but his giggles are warm and welcoming. _-Never think of yourself as a bother to me, Ash, for it cannot have been further from the truth._

From his ear, Arceus shifts its focus towards his neck, its forehead weaving along an invisible path from his shoulder, all through his arm and finally ending on the finger – specifically, the one upon which he wears the golden band, made from the very same living metal which forms the wheel around Arceus’ flank. 

_-Also, do promise me that you will not hesitate to call upon my name. I have procured this ring for you for this very reason._

All these uncertainties, they are truly not worth entertaining in the slightest. What he would have asked of Arceus is everything it will give him, its companionship being the least it could have granted the Ketchum. What is left now is convincing its mate of the entitlement to treat Arceus as he ordinarily would a normal human spouse. 

When Ash smiles again, it is a genuine, heart-meltingly fond look that has Arceus’ breath mysteriously stuck in its throat before resuming with a rush. It is a show of reassurance that he has no doubt of his standing as the Original One’s equal. 

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind, Arceus.” 


End file.
